Seattle
by Unknown lazy ass
Summary: I want to be your favourite hello, and your hardest goodbye. Sam x Carly
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One:_ **Sea-ttle**

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**Disclaimer:** I don't have any legal rights to iCarly. Nickelodeon does, it is created by Dan Schneider.

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It's raining, and it never stops raining, because it's Seattle. Hence why it has 'Sea' in front of Seattle. Besides the constant raining, it's a nice enough place to live. I mean I could be living somewhere in Afghanistan or Africa instead, but I'm not, I'm stranded in this wet-paradise.

Fact, the only reason, as juvenile and self-indulgent this may sound, I find this place better than any other place in the world is because Carly's here. Carly, my best friend of eight years and counting, can only be found in Seattle. For according to Albert Einstein's Quantum theory no one can be in two places at once.

Maybe it's stupid of me, maybe I'm no better than Freddie, and just maybe I'm _worse _than Freddie. Truth, I am stupid, and Freddie has now officially passed me in ranks ever since he got together with Shannon Williams. And worst part is, I can't seem to un-stupidfi myself. If only this was about my insufferable grades, then I would be on my bed peacefully chewing on a piece of pork chops, enjoying life as it should be, simple.

Speaking of pork chops…

Sometimes I wish I could be a pig, be fed and loved by many, rivalling only the turkey on holidays, who wouldn't want to be a pig? I know kids who worship bacon, like Tubby Tommy, his mom sent him to fat camp because she found his closet full of bacon, not just the meat but pictures, articles, and god know's what else. People would kill to be worshipped, just look up Hitler on google. I bet he wished he was a pig, well that is before the people found him dead.

I wonder if I would be dead before my dreams of becoming a pig is fulfilled, probably. That's what the world does to you, it makes you live just long enough for you to dream but too short for your dreams to actually become real. The world's a jerk like that.

Rain droplets starts squeezing their way through the tiny holes in my umbrella, and right then I wish I had brought that mini-umbrella from the Dollaruma, last week when I was there with Carly. A buck is worth staying dry for. It actually takes two dollars for a basket of laundry to be dried, so if you do the math properly, I would've saved a whole buck if I had gotten that mini-umbrella, even if they only sold pink poodle designed ones.

As soon as I spot the double doors to Carly's apartment building, I enter. Once inside, I shake myself and the useless umbrella, I finish just before Lewbert enters with that freakish large mole on his face. Immediately he notices the large puddle of water on the floor, and just as quickly he starts pointing fingers, casually I blame it on a fat lady pampering her equally over-weighed cat. Through the closing doors of the elevator, I manage to catch a glimpse of Lewbert verbally abusing the perfectly innocent lady. Innocent unless they placed a new weight-limit on the apartments.

When I drag my wet self into the familiar apartment that is Spencer's, I'm wearing a wide grin on my lips. Both Carly and Freddie turn and look at me wearily with suspicion as if I've kicked the world's cutest puppy. My only defence is a shrug, and before my butt touches the warm cushions that they long to sit on, Carly stops me.

Yanking my arm in mid-air, she states the obvious, "You're wet."

"And you're grinning," Freddie chimes in, curiosity drowning in his geeky brown eyes, and for a second I wish he was a cat. After all curiosity killed the cat.

I reach for a towel and while I'm in Carly's down-stair's washroom, I shout back "Well it is raining outside and my umbrella has holes, why wouldn't I be wet?" I change out of my clothes and exchange them for the dry ones in the backpack strapped around my left shoulder.

Soon but later than I would've liked, I'm slumped on the couch in my gym clothes with my feet up on the table.

"Why would you use a umbrella with holes in it? That totally defeats it's purpose," Freddie informs me in that annoying whiny voice of his.

"Why did your mom give birth to you? That totally defeats the condom's purpose." I snap back at him half-heartily while my eyes stay glued to the Tv screen.

"Hey! For your information, my mother didn't use a condom!" He's too flustered to be thinking straight because he sets himself up for another insult.

"See that's where she went wrong. I bet even the doctors wished she had used a condom," my dry hair soon becomes wet again as Carly sprays me with her 'fight-a-proof' spray bottle. The big grin is gone, it washes away with the water.

"Sam, stop verbally assaulting Freddie." She talks down to me in her mother-mode voice.

"Hey the dweeb should have seen that last one coming." I complain while my eyes glare at Freddie's eager face. Even though he out grew that sick lost-puppy dog look in his eyes, he still irks me whenever he smiles. If there's any consolation prize, I have stopped physically abusing him, now that he doesn't drool over Carly whenever she's within five-meters of him.

I think the part I hate the most about him is the fact that everyone pities him. They pity him for his dead father, his over-bearing mother's controlling behaviour, and for being born dorky. I'm not trying to gain myself any brownie points but I'm the one with the careless mother, a father in jail for his fourth time, and unrequited love. At least the dorkward has himself a woman AND that impressive brain of his.

Me? I got nothing, nothing but Carly. And even then, I don't have her the way I wish I did.

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**Author's Rant:** School will be the death of me, and position papers are my tormentor.

Anyways, I would like to dedicate this story to Mr. Fishy, we've never talked, well not technically but if words could speak, let's just say I'm a huge fan of Mr. Fishy's work. It's just a shame my writing can't do justice for my admiration to Mr. Fishy.


	2. Chapter 2

Missing Ham

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**Disclaimer:** I don't have any legal rights to iCarly. Nickelodeon does, it is created by Dan Schneider.

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I don't feel well without my ham to nurse on but it's a school day and Spencer hasn't gone to the store for a re-fill. So I'm degraded to chewing on cheese. It's not as chewy as ham or even as tasty but it's better than nothing, I try to convince myself. Fact, you can't really chew on cheese.

Like every other day of the week I'm over at Carly's. Currently walking through her upstairs hallway, towards the bathroom, hoping to catch a shower to pass the agonizing time of having no ham. By the time I'm wearing my birthday suit and standing underneath the showerhead, I'm relieved to discover that Spencer at least remembered to pay the water-bill this month because the soothing warm water drowns my senses. I turn the nub past the red bar, soon the water irritates my skin, making it burn my skin bright red but I don't care. I don't bother to turn the nub back to a more acuminating temperature, instead I let the water touch every single limb I have. As self-destructive as this may sound, I enjoy the numbing sensation that the burns give me, it makes me feel invincible, even if it's just momentarily.

To not feel anything, even if it's for a pitiful millisecond, it stops the aching in my bruised heart.

I avoid the mirrors, instead I quickly dry myself before wrapping the towel around my naked body. My hair is in my face and it's straight, normally I would've bothered to curl my hair but I'm feeling extra lazy today, it's probably due to the lack of ham. In Carly's room, I spot a baggy band shirt that I had left behind laying on the floor, I had accidentally spilled pop all over it during the ride back. To my greatest of surprises I find it clean, then it occurs to me that Carly probably washed it for me. Smiling, I pull the black t-shirt over my head, bringing it close to my nose so I could breath in the nice scent that is _Tide_.

Is it creepy that I can smell a bit of Carly on it as well? Is it weird that I like it even more because of that smell? Most definitively but love does that people, love makes people insane. Most of the stalkers were born through love. Not that I love Carly or anything.

I borrow a pair of Carly's blue jeans before heading downstairs where I spot my best friend sitting on the couch munching on bit-size carrot sticks. She's too focussed on whatever trash that's playing on Tv to even notice my presence, so I quietly settle myself onto the empty space next to her. Even as my almost-dry hair rests on her lap, she doesn't turn to address me. So when she absentmindedly starts to caress my messy locks, I no longer care that she didn't focus her eyes on me. In fact I would even go as far as to thank the stupid show, that is if I wasn't high on Carly's loving touches.

Maybe a day without ham won't kill me, just as long as Carly continues to touch my hair like that, I might even consider screwing meat all the way. Carly snaps out of her daze as the credits starts rolling, and immediately I need the comfort of the fatty, hard, chewy substance that is meat. I feel her tense beneath my head but soon she relaxes, too bad her hands no longer seem interested in my scalp.

Killing the groan of disappoint that begs to escape, I sit up and ask, "When do you think Spencer will be back with the ham?"

She laughs, and I swoon. "He told me that he likes one of the cashier's there so it might take a while."

This time I let out my groan, I let it echo in my throat before it becomes airborne. Like a five-year old asking about the birds and the bees, I voice my concern "Why did God give us stupid feelings like love?"

I know I'm asking odd, not-so Sam like questions because Carly scrunches up her pretty little face in confusion. "Umm…so you could love ham?"

"That my friend, is a very wise answer indeed. I guess you can't win against God, huh?" Sometimes it hurts to think Carly knows me too well, so well she forgets that I'm not only skin-deep, that I read a lot more than everybody thinks. A lot more than she thinks.

Well, I read just as long as I'm bored and I've got plenty of meat to exercise my jaw on. Don't forget, I never mentioned anything about reading _books_.

After all I wouldn't want my mother suspecting me of becoming like Aunt Emily, who became so book-crazed that she stole books from the libraries until she finally stole an entire library. No, my mom already has dad to worry about, even if he isn't here and probably a thousand miles away from here. I'm crossing my fingers for a million miles.

A part of me wishes he would just stay locked up there, then he won't be troubling my mom so much, then I would be having a semi-normal family. But I know it won't be too long until he's back, scheming another scam for some poor schmuck to fall for. Then he would go right back in there, behind those thick metal bars, where he truly belongs.

Then I remember how mom never really smiles unless the conman's home, how she doesn't laugh her hardest even at my funniest jokes and insults, not unless Samson is back counting his blood money on his desk. Mom's strange like that, love made her strange like that.

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**Author's rant**:

Okay school's settled down a bit now, but it's weird, does everyone hate their first year of high school?

Anyways, I actually have absolutely no plot for this story I suppose it'll be a surprise for you and I both to as how this story ends. How you guys are enjoying this, leave me your thoughts and concerns!


	3. Chapter 3

Angst of Adolescences

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**Disclaimer:** I don't have any legal rights to iCarly. Nickelodeon does, it is created by Dan Schneider.

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It's hard being a fifteen year old girl, cause I'm always having these bad mood-swings even when it isn't my time of the month. Sometimes it makes me depressed, other times I'm so bored I end up sexually frustrated. I usually manage to endure them with a little bit of help from ham and re-runs of two and a half men. Currently I'm holding a half empty pail of cookie dough flavoured ice-cream while my brain is becoming abducted by Charlie's boyish charms. My heart lies with Jake, I can't help but adore Charlie like the kicked puppy he is. He reminds me of my Uncle John, only difference is John has a beer gut and can't pick up a chick unless she's drunk. So I guess he isn't like Charlie at all, my bad.

My tongue seeks out another mouthful of artificial flavour and high dose of sugar, just as the door bell rings. I take another scoop straight from the ice-cream bucket to my spoon, faintly I hear my mom nagging me to answer the door. Surprisingly, she doesn't have a colourful vocabulary like most of my teachers predict from my own vulgar behaviour, instead she has a rich, soft soothing voice, one that's placed me to sleep countless of times with sweet lullabies.

I picked up all my bad habits from my dad, he and his little rat-like pals. Especially during poker nights, when the living room air would be foggy with cigarette smoke, and random faces. My fondest memory of poker night was of me saddled on my mother's lap while she rocked me to sleep, trying to drown out the mad curses and shouts.

My mother's voice becomes louder and it loses some of it's calming manner, swallowing another big spoonful I finally answer the door. Outside is Mrs. Benson, she's holding a tray of nutritious home-made muffins while smiling a little. She's never been too comfortable with me ever since I made Freddie eat his own G.I Joe's head in third grade, the little runt thought it would make him strong like G.I Joe himself, I guess I had more of my father's blood in me than I would have cared for.

"Hello Sam, I here to see Cathy."

"Hey Mrs. Benson." The one thing I really like about Mrs. Benson is that she calls me Sam, not Samantha or Sammy, just Sam. I let the door swing wide open behind me as I drag my feet to my mom's room. Inside, I find my mom wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets, her lovely face not so lovely and buried deep into her pillow. The years of my father's absence has left my young mother looking like a frantic widow. "Mrs. B is here."

That's all I need to say before my mom yanks herself out of bed, in the short five minutes that I've informed her of Mrs. Benson's appearance, she has fixed herself up into a clean dress and some make-up. My mother has always good at that, appearing to be in control and organized, faking that the world is full of fucking sunshine and colourful rainbows. No matter when or where it was, whether it was in a courthouse hearing for my father's trial or my teacher's parents conference meetings, A.K.A going through all my stupid little problems.

Back when I was still in grade school, my mother used to tell me all the time how I reminded her of my father too much, always getting myself into trouble that I couldn't handle. Back then I used to like the comparison, now I resent it.

I follow my mother back into the living room, as my mom gets comfortable with Mrs. Benson I put away the ice cream tub and walk outside. I don't go over to Carly's house like I want to, instead I start walking through the soft shower of rain, I'm headed to a familiar unknown, with only twenty bucks in my back pocket. Sighing, I enter a corner coffee shop, hiding from the rain like usual.

Reality, there is no sunshine behind that grey cloud, and no rainbow after a thunderstorm. There's just me and my broken mom.

The smell of coffee beans and soul music fills me with a sense of comfort, it's been a long time since I've entered this shop. Last time I was only a foot tall while riding on my father's shoulders, pretending to fly. I'm different now, I'm more cynical, goofy, and a little lost. A waitress approaches me with a polite smile, she's probably used to seeing teenagers around here, I hear caffeine is the new cocaine. I fidget in my seat, even though the cushions are soft and the chair's stern.

"Hello, want would you like?"

I rake my brain for memories, sheepishly -almost self-consciously, I ask for a menu. "A medium cup of hot cocoa and a piece of pumpkin pie, please." She nods at me, I get a strange feeling that she almost wanted to bend over and give my cheeks a squeeze. While I wait for my order I strum the table edge with my rough fingers. Soon I'm drumming, and my right foot sets the beat.

"One medium cup of hot cocoa and a piece of pumpkin pie." she sets a receipt with the meal. I glance at the numbers while I take a hesitant sip of my hot drink.

The cocoa warms me up and the pie stops me stomach's constant complaining, leaving me with my thoughts. Thoughts full of yesterday, yesterday when I discovered school will be the end of me. Currently in tenth grade and having absolutely no classes with Carly really has put a strain on us, on me. I had to serve detention today, and hence why I was eating comfort food and watching two and a half men.

Normally I wouldn't mind serving detention but after my stupid argument with Carly yesterday, I really wasn't in the mood. It wasn't our first, in fact I think that's our fifth one this month, ever since school started up again we haven't been too close. Sure I still raid her fridge and practically live in her apartment, but I don't feel the calming sensation anymore. Instead, I feel bottled up, tense and afraid that I might say something stupid.

Like my little comment on love yesterday, and how I just left after she started pestering me about my life at home. Lately she's been doing that a lot more, asking about my mom and Samson. It really is none of her business, I mean I don't ask about her father who's currently in the middle of an assault. Or even about her mom whose leaving in Paris somewhere doing something, I never asked for details.

Maybe that makes me the bad guy, I mean she was only trying to help but I don't want help, I'm perfectly fine, just as long as Samson is locked up. Right? Even if Carly who's been best friend ever since I stopped sucking on my thumb is mad at me, even if my mother who's barely in her thirties is depressed, and even if I'm so close to falling off the edge, I'm perfectly fine.

I pull out a five dollar bill from my wallet and set it on the table before storming out.

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**Author's Rant:**

Thanks: Croaker001 and Hotcutii3. Well the main reason why I don't like school is because all my junior high friends are attending different schools from me, that and I was sort of sick, as in cough, cough, sneeze, achoo! Repeat.

Okay, I've set up some facts now, facts which I'll probably forget soon. So I'm going to list them out, Sam is fifteen and is in tenth grade. Sam dislikes her father (Samson), Carly and her friendship is in a rough patch, and her mom's depressed. Jeeze maybe I should've put this under angst…no, the humour will be pouring in soon enough.


	4. Chapter 4

Hello Friday

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**Disclaimer:** I don't have any legal rights to iCarly. Nickelodeon does, it is created by Dan Schneider.

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"Hello…Sam?"

His voice makes me want to crawl under a rock, but that satisfied smirk on his face is what makes me want to die under that rock. Immediately my hand lungs and grabs a handful of his shirt, drawing him near I sneer "Tell anyone about this, and you die."

He's not making this easy for me, because he continues on smirking his little smile, "Not a word, gotcha." Ignoring his playful eyes, I invite myself inside, and almost as if my feet are made of magnets, they carry me to his fridge. Peeking my head in, I enjoy the cool air it breathes, I'm not really hungry but I just know he'll only wonder more if I don't steal a bite of something.

Spotting a slice of beef, I quickly it snatch it out, and before he can protest, the flap of meat is inside my mouth. Pleased to hear his all-too familiar groan of dismay, he asks "Okay you stole my meat, now tell me why you're here."

"Why Freddork, can't I just pay you a friendly visit?" I bat my eyes to elaborate my illusion of false innocence. Dead-panned, he waves me off. Still chewing on the cold dry meat, I take a seat on his couch. "Your mom's over at my place, I figured it was only fair."

"She brings you muffins, and you steal my beef. How is that fair?"

I roll my shoulders, "Hey you're the genius here, not me."

"It's not fair, that's what it is." He's keeping his distance by leaning on the kitchen counter, just watching me with curiosity. Same curiosity that a child has for a tiger, fascinated but smart enough to not stick his hand in-between the bars of the cage.

Once I discover his remote, I'm surprised to find out he has satellite, "Hmmm…and here I thought your mommy wouldn't let you have access to South Park." My smile only grows when I find out that some channels, basically all except the discovery channel and Tree house, is blocked off. "Nice Tv you got here." My sarcasm earns me a frown, "Hey what's got your panties up in a bunch?"

"I should be asking you that." He really isn't going to let this go, is he?

Sighing, I shut the Tv off. Not turning to meet his eyes I grumble "Your beef sucks…Carly's is so much better."

He uncrosses his arms and breaks out of his girly stance, sometimes I truly believe he's gay. "Well then, maybe you should go over to Carly's and steal her meat."

Letting the soft cushions envelope my head, I sneer "I bet I'm the only girl that's ever stepped foot inside your apartment. I mean, aside from your mom."

He's real quiet now, and his silence echoes throughout the room. I try not to fidget like my limbs want to, instead I close my eyes pretending I'm asleep. "You know, Shannon's been here before." I don't tell him to shut up like I usual do, I'm too beat to do so. Besides, he's not worth it. "She's actually been here a lot." Now I'm blocking him off with my fingers, but even if it's silent like a gravesite, I know I won't be able to sleep. His couch isn't like Carly's, it's not lumpy or worn down, it doesn't smell like pizza and faintly of Carly, instead it's so clean and airy, I feel like I'm in space suffocating.

"Freddie…" This is the first time in years since I've used his name.

And he notices, like a puppy he perks up and asks, "Yeah?"

"Get me more beef."

--

Fridays are the best, but it's hell trying to count down every minute of each period. Besides, Math never was my best subject.

"I'm sorry."

I don't remember walking out of the classroom, I don't even remember hearing the bell but it doesn't matter because she's here, looking so damn pretty with her dark hazel hair framing her apologetic face. "For what?" I know the answer but I play dumb, hoping she'll take a hint. She doesn't, she never does.

"About yesterday. I tried phoning you but you didn't answer." She's worried now, and I'm just tired.

Avoiding eye contact, I plaster on a fake smile "Hey, no prob." That's a lie. "Umm…I was sleeping" Another one won't hurt, but it does, the evidence shown on Carly's face. She doesn't look convinced but she smiles, one that doesn't quite reach her eyes, and nods. She doesn't mention how I've got bags under my eyes, or how I'm a wreck from the lack of sleep, instead she asks "You coming over for spaghetti night?"

I want to nod but my neck isn't listening, so I grab her hand, gesturing for her to carry me away. Away from the importance of how to find square root, or how to balance elements, and of all the little whispers that girls and boys exchange.

Away from hell.

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**Author's Rant:**

Okay I'm trying to make Sam a little more …well like Sam. But fifteen is usually a really bad age for finding a silver lining. But this story is sort of my project for this year, I'm determined to write over a hundred pages, so wish me luck!

Thanks to: Showwizard, Hotcutii3, lita rock Lbc, croaker001, and live2rite.

P.S: Happy Thanksgiving!


	5. Chapter 5

**No changes, right?**

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**Disclaimer:** I don't have any legal rights to iCarly. Nickelodeon does, it is created by Dan Schneider.

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"What's changed?"

Her voice alone is able to make me choke on my spite, doubling-back I stare at her. She's keeping her eyes away from mine, my blue eyes that are foggy with confusion. Cracking a lazy smile, I joke, "My backpack's gotten heavier."

That seems to do the trick, she snaps back to her usual self, the Carly I know and love, "Sam, you aren't carrying a backpack."

"Well if I was, it would be heavy." I state as if I'm clearly right, and she rolls her eyes while shaking that pretty little head of hers. Before I do something stupid, I look away, trying to steady my heart, wondering if she could hear the loud thumps of it beating. Pushing aside my thoughts I wonder aloud, "Is the dork coming?"

"Actually, he's bringing Shannon." She seems happy for him, her eyes twinkling and her teeth showing but I can tell it's all for show, and then I remember, the word _'seems'_. Ever since Freddie started dating Shannon, Carly's changed, not in a bad way, but definitely in a way. Whenever Shannon's around Carly loses her funny bone, and she becomes restless, fidgeting and faking smiles.

Personally, I for one, have nothing against Shannon. Even if she's a little messed up in the noggin, anyone who liked or likes Freddie is. But as far as girls liking Freddie go, she has to be the only one that's somewhat cool. She's changed quite a bit since Gibby's crush on her, she got a little taller, a little prettier, and a whole lot smarter. Currently rivalling Carly in most of their A.P classes.

But A.P classes on the other hand, now those are a different story.

A.P classes should be illegal, it's discriminatory to those who have better things to do than to study twelve hours every day, and honestly it's not our fault genes coded our I.Q, in fact if anything, it's our parents fault. Besides anything that separates, I from Carly should be illegal, that's just like trying to split a proton. It shouldn't be physically possible.

But it is. At least according to Mr. Patterson, I think he always wanted to get even with me after I threw eggs at his house on Halloween last year. Though, everyone (Carly) keeps telling me that the schedules were organized randomly by a computer. Pssh, tell that to Mr. Patterson. The dude was totally smiling a victory grin when I checked in at the gym.

"Sam? Sam!"

Yawning, I mumble a soft _'yeah?'_ she rolls her eyes again and I smile.

"Wanna stop by Groovy Smoothies?" She's dawdling and she knows that I know it, but she's giving me her puppy dog eyes, and she also knows how I know that I can't resist those eyes.

After a casual shrug I state, "You're paying. I want to try the new orange mango tango." She fakes a sigh before smiling as she drags me inside, far too eager to take her mind off Freddie and his girlfriend. I finally let go of her hand to grab a table while Carly goes to the counter to order our drinks.

This place is a familiarity, even before I met Carly this place was where I wasted my spare time, it was a nice place. A bit crowded at times but it was still comfortable. I don't even notice Carly coming towards me, not until her chair scrapes against the tiled floors, making me look up. She smiles at me and I grab my drink.

"It's been a while since we've hanged out, huh? I mean just you and me."

I keep my mouth busy with the plastic straw while thinking over a proper response. Honestly, I've missed this, hanging out with Carly, babbling about nothing, and most of all Carly. I've missed my best friend. After a long slurp, I smile, "Yeah…I don't know how you've managed to survive without me."

A pregnant pause passes and she softly whispers, "I hadn't…" I don't know what to say, I'm a little confused to say the least. Then again, Carly's been really hard to read these days. So I end up saying nothing. The rest of our conversation consisted of her classes and all the homework she's gotten, while I give my ear and a nod every few sentences. It's not that Carly bores me but listening to her talk about all the stuff that's happened without me, it makes me feel just a little bit lonely. As if she doesn't need me anymore, then again I don't think Carly ever really needed me to begin with. She was always the smart one.

Once I take my last sip, I stand up and garbage the empty cup. When I come back Carly's on her phone, grabbing her purse while trying to juggle her smoothie. Before she drops something I help her out, and for payment, I steal a sip of her drink, as always its strawberry twist. We head for the exit, Carly still chattering away and me lingering behind. Lately I've been seeing the back of Carly a lot; I've memorized the wrinkles of her clothes, the shadows that they make, and even the forms it takes.

Suddenly I'm not hungry anymore, it's probably the nasty cafeteria lunch I bought today but I suddenly feel sick. Pale faced me whisper, "Carly…?"

"Hold on a second Tasha." _Tasha?_ _When did Carly become friends with that bitch?_ Finally, her brown eyes turn to face me, "Yeah Sam? Shit, your face is really pale! Are you alright Sam?"

Am I alright? No, but I lie like I always do, "Umm…yeah, just a small stomach ache." She says goodbye to Tasha quickly and returns to me, now fully concerned.

"I didn't know you could get stomach aches," It's true, I hadn't either. When I was seven, I once ate a whole plastic spoon for five bucks on dare, looking back now I really should've asked for more. The moral of this story was I never got sick; it just came out the other end.

Before I could think of a witty comeback, Carly's phone goes off again, judging by the lame-o ring tone I know its Freddie. He's probably wondering where we were, looking around I start to ask the same question. Carly had absentmindedly wondered off and I had blindly followed.

"Hey Freddie." I catch a couple of his words but I try to tune it all out, my head was spinning way too fast. "Umm…we're near Hub's pottery…. yeah we'll be there in a few minutes." I kneel over and puke out a rainbow, "Actually, I think you guys should go home. Sam's sick right now, yeah I'm sorry. Maybe next week. Okay, bye, oh tell her I said hello too." Wiping what's left of my lunch off my chin, I force a small smile on to my lips hoping to convince Carly that I'm perfectly fine.

I fail miserably.

"Come here Sam," I allow myself to be babied, and with my head lightly resting on her shoulder, we walk up to her apartment. Immediately I lose myself to the strong aroma of homemade spaghetti, Spencer makes the best spaghettis but right now, all I can do is sniff, almost afraid I might repeat my earlier actions. "Spencer!"

He's brushy hair pokes out from his room before calling out a loud _'yeah?'_

"Sam's got a tummy ache, I'm going to make her some soup, you want any?" It's been a long while since I've last tasted Carly's veggie soup; it always made me feel better. I hear an excited _'yes'_ from Spencer, "Okay. I'll put the left over's on the counter, grab it when you're ready." Carly lays me on the couch with a blanket before leaving me for the kitchen.

Smiling I choke out, "I have a stomach ache not a flu Carly." I don't catch her response, instead I close my eyes breathing in the familiar scent of pizza and Carly, feeling the aged cushions underneath me I fall asleep. Breathing evenly I dream about Carly and her soup.

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Author's Rant:

Oh my Lord, I never meant to drag this out so long, I'm sooo sorry. Either case, happy be-late Halloween! I was originally going to post this chapter on Hollow's eve but I digressed. I blame it mostly on myself but school and social events has contributed!To

To **acupinhand**: A self rewarding project. I'm always ditching my stories as sad as that sounds, so I've decided to stick with this one, at least to a hundred pages. Yeah, sorry if I confused you.

**Thanks to: Eternalwraps, live2rite, croaker001, and Hotcutii3**

_P.s:_ I am aware that only like 5% of I.Q is actually affected by genetics and it's more routines, exposure, and age that makes up around 75% while 15% is solely on family interactions and your surroundings, but Sam isn't aware of that...so end of story. Also this has not be beta'd, so excuse my stupid mistakes. Oh and if there is anyone interested in beta'n my work, call me! (Pm me)

Leave me your thoughts and concerns!


	6. Chapter 6

iFeel ill

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**Disclaimer:** I don't have any legal rights to iCarly. Nickelodeon does, it is created by Dan Schneider.

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"Hey remember that time when I accidentally locked Freddie in the girl's locker room?" I ask after another spoonful of warm, delicious homemade veggie soup. I sense a hint of amusement as well as resentment from Carly so I quickly add on, "Yeah, yeah it was wrong of me. I shouldn't have done it." I wasn't exactly apologizing, just embracing my faults and being responsible for my actions. I feel myself smiling once I notice Carly rolling her eyes a little. I love the way her eyebrows raise just a notch and the way her cheeks turn a shade darker, and most of all I love how happy she makes me feel.

"Sam you really shouldn't have. Shannon stayed mad at him for almost five days because there was a rumour going around that he was setting up spy cameras in the girl's change room." Even though I admire Carly's ethical nature and honourable values, sometimes I just want her to throw me a bone. Just let her laugh the giggles she wants to whether or not Freddie had a pissy girlfriend for a week. And I know for a fact that Carly had wanted to laugh because it was a rather funny rumour. She gives me another stern look before softly asking, "Are you feeling better?"

I roll my eyes dramatically before reasoning, "Carly I was never sick to being with…though I've got to say your soup rocks even if it's for rabbits." The only meat-free meal I was willing to eat was Carly's veggie soup, one: it actually tasted good and two: it made Carly happy. "So now that I'm all stuff'd full of carrots and other healthy crap let's have some of Spencer's special spaghetti!" She laughs gently and after a short pause, she rests her palm against my forehead.

When she gasps, I know something's wrong. With deep worry laced in her beautiful honey-brown eyes she whispers, "You're hot."

"Aren't I always?" I joke lightly, which earns me a tired sigh, I must not be thinking straight because I've made Carly upset twice in just ten minutes.

"I bet this is from you walking in the rain for thirty minutes with a lousy umbrella," she's real close now and it's making me dizzy. Pulling away a little, I ask for another bowl of her rabbit-soup and she reluctantly gets up to fulfill my request.

I don't know why it makes me feel all tingly and content to know I make Carly concerned, it's rather selfish of me and yet it's good to know she cares. I wonder if she would do this for Freddie if he were in my shoes, I push the hypothetic situation aside when Carly returns with a bottle of Buckley's. Forcing myself from bolting right then and there, I glare at my caretaker. "W-what are you doing with _that _thing?!" Almost as if she's holding a lethal weapon, I back away until my back hit's the arm of the couch. "Okay no need to be dramatic Carly, I'm fine, really I am. So why don't you just put that thing away now?"

She sighs at my immature antics before unscrewing the cap and pours it into a teaspoon, "Sam if you want to get better, you've got to drink this." I hold my hands up in front of me, praying to God that it will protect me. It doesn't. The taste, the odour, the horrors…arg! It was disastrous, my poor tongue! I hate the fact that I can't seem to say 'no' to this brunette, and it scares me because I've never felt so vulnerable before. Sensing my distress, she hands me a second serving of her tasty soup, which I graciously wolf down, trying to wash away the wretched, vile remainder of evil labelled as Buckley.

"Sam, you wanna watch a movie?" She's being sweet but I feel abused, still sipping her soup I childish ignore her. "Oh? You want to watch the notebook, really? Wow, I ne-"

I cut her off sharply, there's only so much a girl could take. "No chick-flicks," I state firmly while avoiding her puppy-dog eyes.

"B-but Sam," she drawls my name out almost as if with my name alone she could convince me otherwise. "Please?"

Not really looking I point at a random DVD case, "That one." To my luck, it's not a chick-flick but it's close, close enough to satisfy Carly and her womanly-needs.

"P.S I love you? Wow you're taste in movies sure has improved." I give her a cheeky smile and try to remember what the movie is about. It wasn't too long ago when the girls in my class had been loudly chattering about this movie. Unfortunately, I had blocked them all out. If I'm correct some guy dies, and death is a sure sign for action but alias I'm sorely disappointed as my eyes lose interest in the overly mushy and depressing slides of motion picture. Before I start complaining I slide my eyes up to Carly, she's very quiet but her eyes scream out various emotions and right then I decide that it's worth it.

It rains again that night, but my dry rusty coughs disturb the calming pitter-patter sound of the rain. Carly's holding me loosely like every other sleepover but I can't help but be a bit stiff about it. Maybe it's the fever or my brain's turned to mush but my heart's racing, leaving me restless. Shifting slightly so that my back is facing Carly I try to sleep which surprisingly comes quickly, probably because I'm highly mediated at the moment.

"_Okay Sammy, whatcha got?"_

_A little girl sitting on her knees peered through her hand and stared at her dad, biting her lips she whispered "Hit me."_

_The deck must hate her because he says, "Aw Hun, you lost." He's smiling even as he sympathizes her, Sam reasons to herself that the smile is just part of his poker face. _

"_I hate Twenty-one," she whines, gently banging her tiny fists against the coffee table. Before she starts, crying her mom lifts her small body into her arms and hugs her. _

"_Sam I told you not to play that with her." _

"_Sorry but the kid will thank me later." He stands up and kisses his daughter on her forehead, then places a soft kiss on his wife's lips. "Besides yer always tellin' me how I don't spend 'nough time with her." _

The first thing I hear is the light thudding of the infamous Seattle rain and the first thing I feel is Carly's warm breath against my neck. Rolling over onto my back, I take in a deep breath to try to calm my nerves. The vivid image of my father is almost enough to make me puke a second time but I don't. Instead, I carefully untangle myself from Carly and quickly write her a note on a piece of gum wrapper before leaving her.

I needed some air. I wanted to escape.

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**Author's Rant:**

So I put more Cam scenes in this chapter but fair warning to y'all, Freddie will probably be coming in a lot more the next few chapters which will unfortunately lead to a decline of Carly appearances.

Oh and another thing, this took me forever to try to type up but once I started I finished it in the same hour. Also, if there is more mistakes in this one than in my other chapters, it's because I'm medicated right now, this goes for any odd characterizations as well.

Hey, at least I made Sam a little more relaxed in this one…sort of.

Oh and another thing, I loved P.S I love you, it's totally not a chick flick! If you haven't seen it before you should totally check it out.

Once again, sorry for the delay but my whole week seriously sucked, why is it that teacher's always plan exams in the same days even if it's a different subject?!

To **Eternalwraps:** I think this the best feedback I've gotten in a long while so, thank you! As for Carly's attitude towards Shannon, that my friend shall be a mystery until later on. I think you'll be pleased with the out-come though.

**Thanks to:** croaker001, lita rocks LbC, Hotcutii3, Eternalwraps, and krish-x.


	7. Chapter 7

You & Me, and Saturday

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**Disclaimer:** I don't have any legal rights to iCarly. Nickelodeon does, it is created by Dan Schneider.

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Ever since I was little, just eight to be more precise, I knew, somehow I just knew I didn't belong. When I was sitting next to the prettiest of girls, or even the toughest of boys, I never could manage to fit myself in. It wasn't about my looks, or even my knowledge -or the lack of it, but rather, I didn't like any of them. Their too-perfect-for-world hair, or their white-enough-to-endorse-toothpaste teeth, and most of all, I hated their weepy follow-the-herd attitude. I wanted, craved above all needs to feel different, to feel like anyone but _them_, the all _so _flawless people.

And I did, believe it or not. I found her, Carly Shay, the one girl that didn't give a damn about how crappy my personality was, or my tad-bit out of sense fashion styles. At that time, I believe the only thing she cared about was, well, her tuna fish sandwich. Funny, it was food that brought us together.

Together until recently, it's odd how you could spend over nearly seven hours in the same building with someone, everyday for five times a week and still only see them during lunch, which happens to be only an hour and a half. And that hour and a half seems to be getting shorter and shorter every time. And I swear it's not because of food distracting me from counting the minutes like I do in Math class. It's Carly, and until we have to say 'cya later' some days feel like an eternity just because of the lack of smiles on that Shay's face.

Like today for instance.

"So, why did you leave?"

She's trying to be indifferent about how much she's actually hurting, because over the years that I've gotten to know Carly. I've noticed that whenever she's bothered or really upset, her cheeks turn just a tad too pale and her ears a light shade of pink. Then her eyes, the usual warm oak-hue would fade, replaced by dull -almost black, grizzly-brown eyes. With my shoulders hunched and looking away I grumble out a lame excuse, "I needed some air."

"Where did you go? I mean it was in the middle of the night."

Now she's worried and I don't blame her, "Y'know. Places." I'm keeping it vague and simple, cause I can't lie to Carly. I could convince the Queen of England that I'm Brittany Spears after rehab but I can't look Carly straight in the eyes and not tell her the truth. Cause she deserves that much, that and she hates liars.

"Sam you need to get some rest." Right, sleep, I nod but otherwise pretend as if that comment was never said. Cause sleep meant going home and I really couldn't bear to be there right now, right after that nightmare. Funny, usually when kids dream of their own parents -especially ones they haven't seen for over a decade, you expect them to be ecstatic, then again most kid's parents aren't criminals.

Criminals. The word ping-pong between my ears, and more out of fear than anything else I reason, "Let's get inside. It looks like it's going to rain." She doesn't move and stares real hard at me for a long time, finally she grabs my hand, whispering nonsense about the rain and how it's going to make me even more ill.

The mall's warm and probably wasting a bunch of electricity keeping it that way. I notice the lame streamers and the traditional orange and black colors that represent the best day of the year. Halloween, trick-or-treat, hopefully treat. It's coming up and I've forgotten all about it. You would think that the huge, colorful, 3-D posters pinned up in every door and corner advertising the coming-up Halloween dance at school would have kept me informed.

"Sam, remember that time back in grade eight when we did that special web-cast in that 'haunted room' for Halloween?" How could I forget? The face, the fake blood, and that creepy old lady, I shiver at the silly memories.

"Yeah, what about it?" My mind is elsewhere, mostly lost in the sea of on-sale chocolate bars.

"We should do something like that again." I toss her a look; she stares back at me with soft, innocent eyes.

"Seriously? You like that whole, 'Oh shit! I'm gonna die' sort of thing? Hmm…I'm in." She giggles at my poor choice of words but otherwise says nothing to deny my accusations, instead she steers me to the food court. I eye the displayed chocolate boxes one last time before taking Carly's offered hand, cause Carly overrules cheap chocolate any day. Teasingly, I grumble, "Your hands are cold."

"So are yours," she retorts with half a smirk, one that I can't help but return. "I've missed that," She notes out of nowhere and I'm left with aching confusion. I cock one eyebrow in hopes of her elaborating on her words, she gestures vaguely in the direction of my face before repeating, "That."

Finally I submit to defeat by asking, "What?" She smiles faintly, clearly amused.

"Your badass smirks." I laugh, and hard. My chap lips protests for me to stop but I can't, in fact I laugh louder. And in the mess of it all, I can't remember why I'm laughing so hard especially since it wasn't that funny at all. My laughter slowly calms before dying and Carly breathes a sigh of relief. She probably thought I had snapped or something in my brain had. Cause really, it wasn't that funny. "Come on Sam, I think we should really feed that stomach of yours, like, right now." And as if on cue, it growls, Sam Jr, my stomach.

The line-up is long and huge, filled with people who fidget and tap their feet constantly. But I'm too busy to be angered by their annoying, loud habits, too distracted by the lip-gloss on Carly's lips and how it makes her lips look quite literally, delicious. And before I could dare myself a taste, the cashier is in front of me with only the cash register to separate us, asking what I would like to have. "Number two with curly fries and cream-soda."

She nods then moves onto Carly, and before she even says it, in my mind I recite her order _'Number three, hold the sesame seeds and with extra pickles.' _I wait a minute before Carly repeats my unsaid words.

"And for your drink?" The teenager with bad acne asks from behind the counter, clearly tired of asking the same questions over and over again.

"Umm…" She hesitates because I know she's debating whether she should order 7-up or Root-beer. After a moment she chooses 7-up and I beam at how accurate my thoughts are.

Encouragingly, I tell her while we wait on the side for our orders, "Good choice on the 7-up Kiddo, now we can mix." Said Kiddo giggles shortly before saying a breathy 'sure.'

Sure, sure…sure. I repeat that word in my head because I want to remember it exactly that way, how Carly lagged on the 'S' and how she took a millisecond of a pause between that long 'S' and 'Ur'. Most of all, how beautiful it had sounded, 'Sure' was soon engraved into my brain along with all her cute mannerisms.

Upon receiving our food, I start inhaling my fries while Carly explored for an empty table. "Sam, help me look."

After swallowing my fries I pause and look at her, "Carls, its Saturday." All she does is look at me and I sigh and comply. And while I'm pushing people aside to try and find a table, all I can think about is, "Whipped." I, Sam Puckett, the girl who has more family in jail than out, who can throw a football better than my school's starting quarter-back was totally and utterly whipped by my best friend, Carly Shay. The world sure was messed up.

We end up eating near the fountains which I don't really mind, aside from the constant view of lovey-dovey couples being, well, like couples.

"Here, take this." I don't know how or where Carly got the stupid plastic cup holding the stupid disgusting medicine from but I don't really question Carly's ability to magically bring the right things at the right time. Cause, I'm too preoccupied trying to avoid her attempts at feeding me the gross fluid.

"No way. Get that thing away from me Shay!" People pause and stare at us before quickly walking away. And I can't help but want to join them, or at least go into the closest gun shop and buy a shotgun to blow the head off of the moron who invented this poison.

After a move to the left and to the right, then right back to the left, somehow Carly ends up losing her balance and falling into the fountain.

It was slightly chilly this morning when Carly found me sitting in the middle of the playground where I first met her. She was wearing a purple raincoat and a pair of dark jeans; with the jacket's zipper undone I had been able to spot the white tank top underneath it. It was the shirt her dad had sent from Europe, made out of pure cotton and made from a designer's brand that's apparently really popular over there. The only thing I liked about it was, the pink cat paw marks on it.

The water barely reached up to Carly's knees but she had fallen back first, luckily her raincoat kept most of her upper body dry, at least for the first minute or two then the water got inside the jacket and completely soaked her. I giggled under my breath before offering her my hand, she smiled up at me with revenge sparkling in her eyes but I was smart and drew back before she could pull me in. Carly 'hmped' in mild discontent then quickly crawled out before a security guard could come and question her.

I stared at her, starting from the tip of her sneakers up to her soaked hair. Is it lame of me to say Carly looked really hot all wet like that? "Sam, I'm going to hurt you!" Carly tries to run but ends up slipping on her first step. This time I haul her up and lead her towards the restroom. There I watch Carly stripe off her jacket, revealing to me her white shirt and in all its glory, I can spot her bra. Thinking more of Carly's dignity than my own fantasies, I gently push her towards a stall. Locking the door behind us, I take off my hoodie. Carly catches onto my plan and abandons her shirt before slipping into my oversized, worn-down, and probably smelling like a bucket of chicken wings from B.F Wang's sweater. "Thanks Sam, even if this is entirely your fault."

"I blame the evil medicine," I reply almost immediately. "Come on Cupcake; let's blow this place…right after we stop by the candy aisle in Shur-Mart." She tries to stay mad at me but her plan fails under my charming smirk and tickling fingers.

"S-s-stop S-S-am!" She begs through laughter and light tears.

"Only if you forgive me," I bargain with her.

Eventually, after a couple more tickles here and there, she complies. "Deal, deal!" As soon as I stop she slumps down onto the toilet seat, trying to catch her breath. "You are …evil."

"I try," I off-handily state with a lazy smile and a relaxed shrug. "Come on, we can dry some of your hair under the hand dryer." She grabs her wet cloths and walks past me; she freezes once opening the stall. Outside there is a bunch of angry ladies and one security guard.

"Um…you and your friend need to come with me, for swimming in a public fountain and possibly vandalizing the toilets." The officer looks straight at me while addressing the second accusation.

Spencer ends up picking us up after security finishes thoroughly questioning us and receiving sincere- well on Carly's behalf mostly, apologies. Of course, we had to promise to never go swimming in public fountains ever again and not write 'Mrs. Briggs is evil' on the stall walls either. We never did end up stopping by Shur-Mart for cheap chocolate bars; instead Spencer made hot-chocolate for us back at his place.

"Y'know, this cocoa tastes kinda bitter," I complain with suspicion.

Carly suddenly grins and I faintly spot it over the rim of the mug she drinking from, then she states in that voice of hers when she's absolutely right about something, "I told you, you need to drink Buckley's to get better."

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**Author's Rant:**

So…I've got some good news, I'm still continuing this fanfic and I've decided to cut Freddie out of this chapter. Oh, and my apologizes again for the delay but at least I made Sam really happy in this chapter and there were some nice Cam scenes, no? Anyways, happy really late, holidays and a new years. By the way, I will NOT be following iCarly's episode/plot closely, references here and there will be made but a lot of things will be edited. Anyways, thanks for the reviews and what not, later. Oh, and wish me luck on my finals…I'll be needing it!

**Thanks to:** croaker001, lita rocks LbC, Hotcutii3, Eternalwraps, and Pyrobee for kind reviews.


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